


The Summer House

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama, Erotica, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-16
Updated: 2008-12-16
Packaged: 2018-10-26 08:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: While recovering from an injury at a summer house in Wales, Hermione gets to know Charlie Weasley and, together, they discover hope for the future.





	The Summer House

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for [](http://gfeather.livejournal.com/profile)[**gfeather**](http://gfeather.livejournal.com/) at [](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_summersmut/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_summersmut/)**hp_summersmut**

  
Rosedawn didn’t live up to its name. The stone cottage lay on the rocky eastern shore of a small lake hidden in the mountains, which meant dawn would be spent in the shadows. There were no roses in sight. In fact, there wasn’t vegetation of any sort surrounding the cottage. Rocks, gravel, and earth covered by snow provide the backdrop for the old stone dwelling. It had seen better days, but it definitely had character, which Hermione found appealing.

It wasn’t anything like she had expected after hearing the name. For some reason, she thought of the houses in the Lake District when she heard ‘summer house’. Perhaps it was a childhood spent devouring Jane Austin and similar authors or it could just possibly be the fact that her family took a weekend trip every summer to tour one house or another, a passion of her mother’s for years. When she saw the old stone walls that seemed to be considering collapsing and the sheer isolation of this cottage, she felt even more despondent about being given this task.

Hermione wasn’t stupid. Far from it, in fact. True, her intelligence was more the sort that acquired information rather than the sort that intuitively understood great concepts in a single flash, so she was often dismissed as being merely ‘book smart’ - but she was a relatively good judge of people. She had spent years watching people and studying their ways, and liked to think she understood most of them, and she knew she was rarely surprised by the reactions of anyone with whom she'd spent much time. There were two people she definitely knew nearly as well as herself: Harry and Ron were her best friends, her brothers, and, in Ron’s case, her ill-fated first attempt at love. She might only be nineteen, but she’d not been a child in many years.

It wasn’t chance that this quest, of sorts, had been given to her after Harry started to worry about her, specifically. While the task was necessary, the research could have been done anywhere. She could have been in a tent with Harry and Ron right now hiding from Voldemort and hurriedly doing this work. Instead, she was here: a remote cottage in the middle of nowhere. Well, it was Wales, which wasn't nowhere, exactly, but there was no sign of civilization for many miles so the cottage felt isolated enough to be much further from the rest of the world than it actually, logically, was.

She could have protested and refused Harry’s request, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He had so much to worry about that she couldn’t add to his burden. Besides, she knew she was slowing them down right now. They had to keep moving to avoid being found, which made things even more dangerous. Harry and Ron could hide more easily without her right now. She’d join them again, she knew, because they did need her, but now was a time to focus her energies on letting herself heal and finding the next Horcrux.

Her left leg throbbed as if it knew she was thinking about it. The scars that now covered from lower thigh to ankle felt as if they were moving, slinking along her skin and tightening until she couldn’t ignore them. She had grown accustomed to the pain over the last few weeks and often forgot about it until moments when she could think of nothing else. Her skin started to itch as her trousers rubbed against it, but she didn’t scratch.

The first few days after the injury, she had scratched every itch until her leg had bled beneath the burns and scars. In time, it would heal but the skin would always be burned and scarred because magic couldn’t help it. It was a small sacrifice to pay in comparison to destroying a Horcrux, though, and Hermione wasn’t so vain that she felt as if life was over because her leg would never be normal. She’d be fine once the pain finally diminished, which she hoped was soon because she wanted to rejoin Harry and Ron.

It had only been a day since they’d parted ways but it felt like much longer. Everything felt that way these days, though, from the passing of time to the distance of the summer house. She worried about them being on their own, even if she did have confidence in their abilities and trusted them. She always took care of them and made sure they didn’t do anything too rash or foolish whenever she could prevent it. Now, they didn’t have anyone to keep an eye on them so she had to find the information they needed quickly, and then hope that her leg would heal enough for them to stop worrying.

“Did you want to go inside?”

The soft voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked over at Charlie and felt silly for standing there in the cold staring at the cottage instead of rushing inside to get warm. He looked comfortable here, surrounded by nature and fresh air, yet she didn’t really know him well enough to determine whether this perception was accurate or misleading. However, when Ron had asked him to accompany her on this quest, she’d been relieved. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do the research on her own, but it would go faster with two people searching, especially when the evidence suggested he was as focused as she was about research.

It would also be nice to have someone here with her. If she’d been here by herself, she didn’t know if she’d have been able to handle it. She liked having privacy, which had become a luxury over the last sixteen months, but she wasn’t very fond of being alone. Even if it was just Ron and Harry quietly playing chess, she knew they were there and it wasn’t so frighteningly silent. It was also the middle of winter and despite the fact she could certainly defend herself, being alone in the wilderness was just foolish, even for a witch. The biting cold just made things seem even more desolate.

“Hermione, are you all right?” Charlie asked with a hint of concern.

“Yes,” she said with a half smile. She hadn’t really been around him much, not compared to any of Ron’s other siblings, just brief run-ins during the years at Weasley gatherings or, following Dumbledore’s death, at meetings for the Order, but she could tell he was worried.

He had been from the moment the three of them had arrived at his doorstep last week in Romania after so many months of hunting. He’d seen Ron’s hand and the two missing fingers that had been the sacrifice - however unplanned - that had allowed them to destroy the locket and had seen her cane which was testimony to what had been given to destroy the cup and hadn’t said a word of reproach for them sneaking away from the Burrow during Bill and Fleur‘s wedding that summer so many months ago. Instead, he’d let them inside, made them tea and listened as they told him everything that had happened since Dumbledore’s death. They’d needed someone to trust who wasn’t already heavily involved, and, when Ron had suggested Charlie, she and Harry had realized it was a good choice.

Now, a week later, the poor man found himself stuck with a research assignment that could prove futile, an old stone summer house, and her. She leaned more of her weight against the cane and looked back at the cottage. It had been quite a walk to reach it. They’d had to Apparate several times and then take a Portkey to reach the base of the mountain.

There was a heaviness of old magic in the air surrounding the cottage and lake, which made direct Apparating impossible. It also successfully cloaked any magical signatures in the area so they had a veil of natural protection should someone try to locate them. Hopefully Ron and Harry had remembered to reinforce the protection charms that she’d located and were safely hidden away as they stayed on the move until she could locate the next Horcrux.

“Sorry,” she apologized as she realized she’d once again drifted off into thought. She shivered as a cold wind rushed over them and started to slowly make her way to the cottage. Her leg hurt and she needed to sit so she could her weight off of it. “I have too many thoughts sometimes.”

“There’s no need for apologies,” Charlie assured her as he walked beside her. “As a fellow sufferer of that too-many-thoughts syndrome, I completely understand. I usually go out and play with dragons when I get in one of those moods, but standing and looking at a drafty old cottage works, too. Now let’s get inside and warm up.”

It was obvious that he was slowing down to keep pace with her, but she didn’t get the feeling that he was doing it because he thought she couldn’t make it on her own. It felt more like he merely intended to be there should she need him, that otherwise, he’d go on about his business. She preferred that to Harry’s constant fussing and Ron’s guilt, which was ridiculous considering the fingers he’d lost that she’d been unsuccessful in reattaching despite knowing basic healing charms. However, she had resigned herself to the knowledge that Ron would insist on destroying the next Horcrux regardless, and she only hoped she’d be able to find enough information to keep him from getting hurt again.

When they reached the cottage, Charlie opened the door and let her enter first. It was nearly as cold as it had been outside, but there a fireplace they could use to warm things up. It was larger than it appeared on the outside, which was actually surprising even though she knew it was a magical dwelling. It just seemed so old and rundown on the outside that she’d not expected much. Granted, the inside wasn’t much better but it was welcoming.

There was a small sofa, a couple of chairs, a table, and a tiny kitchen that had the barest of necessities. Charlie came up behind her and stood silently for a moment as they both looked around. “I know it doesn‘t look like much, but I‘ve stayed in worse places,” he told her softly before he lightly squeezed her shoulder. “I’m going to start a fire to chase away this cold. Would you like to go lie down and rest? It was quite a walk up here.”

“Actually, I think I would,” she admitted reluctantly. She felt weak for being so tired because, really, it wasn’t that bad of a walk, but it had seemed twice as long with her injury. Fortunately, Charlie just nodded and made his way to the fireplace. There were no sympathetic looks or pitying gazes. She loved Harry and Ron for not looking at her that way, but she’d seen it when they’ve been in Muggle villages and people noticed the cane and limp.

“I’ll wake you for dinner if you’d like to take a nap,” he offered as he got the fire started and then resized the things they’d brought to begin unpacking. She watched him put stacks of books on the table before he started in on a box of supplies and food.

She didn't ordinarily nap very often, but it did sound quite nice this afternoon. She felt worn out and the leg was getting more difficult to ignore. Sleep would do her good. “That sounds fair,” she told him before she crossed to the two doors at the back of the cottage. The first door she opened showed a toilet, small shower, and wash basin. The second led to a bedroom that only had a bed and wardrobe. She glanced back at Charlie, who seemed to have anticipated her question.

“The sofa folds out into a bed,” he answered her unspoken question. “I’ll be sleeping in here so the bedroom is yours.”

“I can sleep out here,” she offered, thinking it was unfair that he was stuck with the sofa.

“Don’t be silly, Hermione,” he said in a tone that indicated there would be no discussion. “I prefer the sofa, actually. Though, if the bedroom is too cold, let me know and we can switch. It will be warmer in here by the fire.”

“I don’t mind it being colder when I sleep,” she said honestly. “All right. I won’t argue about it but I’ll insist on switching out if it starts to hurt your back, just so you know.”

“I’m not _that_ old,” Charlie murmured as he flashed a hint of a teasing smile before going back to unpacking. “Now go take a nap. You look tired.”

Hermione didn’t protest, this time. Instead, she went into the bedroom and resized her bag. After she took off her shoes, she performed a warming charm and lay down. It didn’t take long before the numerous thoughts fighting for her attention faded into darkness as she drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had only been two days, but it was already frustrating to not find any useful information. It was difficult to look for something when you weren’t even really sure _what_ you were looking for. There were two Horcruxes still out there somewhere, and it was Hermione’s responsibility to locate them. Considering that she’d been trying for over a year and still wasn’t confident about any of the possibilities that had occurred to her, the situation seemed almost hopeless.

In the past, they had primarily focused on locating a locket and a cup that they knew were Horcruxes, though, so that search had required most of her attention. It was only after they’d destroyed the cup, which had resulted in her injury, that they’d realized just how little they had to go on from there. They couldn’t stay in one place for long periods of time, though, and it was difficult to do proper research on the run. That was why Harry had suggested she take the time needed to focus, because he had faith in her and knew she’d find the missing pieces.

It was that unquestionable belief in her that had convinced her not to protest, despite knowing part of his concern was her health. She didn’t need protecting, but Harry needed peace of mind in at least some aspect of his life right now, so she’d agreed, albeit with a condition of joining them for the actual hunt once she located one or both of the Horcruxes. Of course, she hadn’t realized how impossible it would all seem once she was hidden away in a magical summer house with books surrounding her.

“I think the glare’s lost on the book.”

“Is it? That’s too bad. I’d hoped that I’d finally perfected a glare worthy of inanimate objects. Alas, I must continue trying.”

Charlie smiled slightly before he nodded at the book. “That bad?”

She sighed and ran her hand through her hair as she leaned back to look at him properly. “That bad. There’s just too much, I have to admit. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, and I love research. You must be going out of your mind.”

“It took a lot of studying to get where I am now, Hermione. I might prefer working outdoors and with animals, but I’m not a brainless imbecile.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean---” She made a face and shook her head. “Okay, maybe I did, but it wasn’t intentional. I just don’t know you very well, you see, and Ron’s constantly telling stories of his dashing older brother, the Quidditch star.”

“And you were unable to even consider that someone good at Quidditch also has a brain?”

“I dated Viktor Krum, sort of, years ago, so I know Quidditch skills aren’t related to intelligence,” she said tightly, resenting the insinuation that she’d been narrow-minded. She frowned when she realized how that could sound, noticing his slightly smug smile, which confirmed he'd caught it, too. "I meant that playing Quidditch doesn't automatically make one unintelligent."

"Not related, are they?" He ignored her clarification and smirked. "So, what you're saying is that Quidditch requires more than intelligence, because we have to be fit, skilled, and fast enough to avoid being hit with Bludgers and focused enough to catch a Snitch. Nice to see you've realized how clever we players really are, Granger."

“That's not what I said, as you well know. If you think otherwise, you've obviously been hit in the head with too many Bludgers," she said dryly. "What I meant was that I’ve seen you a few times at the Burrow over the years, and I’ve never noticed an inclination to sit inside reading a book or taking notes just for the fun of it, so forgive me for my assumptions.”

“You’re forgiven,” he said gently, losing his smirk as he became more serious. “Didn’t mean to get snappish, but a lot of people have those assumptions. I thought maybe you’d be different. I do enjoy reading a good book, even if it might take me longer to get through it, but when I’m home, it’s to see my family and spend time with the people I love. It’s not to hide myself away with books or do bloody research for kicks.”

“I can understand,” she said honestly. “I try to avoid being prejudiced after having to deal with that myself in this world, so I’m rather ashamed that I just assumed Quidditch and dragons meant uninterested in studies.”

“It happens. If it didn’t, the world would just be black and white instead of having so many shades of gray, right?”

“That’s an interesting perspective, to say the least. It took me a few years to see all the gray, but, yes, people do make mistakes.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “And I really do appreciate your offer to help and suggesting this place and, well, everything over the last week.”

He shrugged. “It’s Ron, Hermione. He’s my baby brother, and he came to me for help. _Me_ , not Bill or Percy or even the twins. I wasn’t about to let him down. Besides, it’s been so frustrating remaining in Romania when I know what’s happening here. The Order said that I could do more good there, keeping an ear open and watching things locally, but it’s bollocks. I want to do something, even if it’s reading through dusty old books trying to find a something significant hidden in all these words.”

“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.” At his confused look, she smiled. “It’s a Muggle saying for something extremely difficult.”

“Ah, okay. Muggles have weird sayings.” He returned her smile. “No more glaring at the book?”

“Oh, there will be glaring,” she assured him, blushing faintly as she realized how foolish she must sound. She tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted in her chair, unconsciously rubbing her leg, before she glanced at the book. “It just seems impossible, despite my having faith that we’ll find it. The alternative just isn’t something that I want to consider.”

“Then faith it is. There’re very few things in life that are truly impossible, and I don’t see this being one of them. As you said, it _can’t_ be, if only because two stubborn people such as ourselves won’t let it.”

“Being obstinate might finally be its own reward. I did wonder what the benefit of such a trait could be, so perhaps we‘ll eventually find out.”

He laughed, low and husky, before he stood. “I’ll start on lunch, if you don’t mind having soup and sandwiches again. Need a break from the books before my head explodes. Don’t think I’d be nearly as pretty if that happened.” He took off his reading glasses and stretched before he walked to the small kitchen.

Since it wouldn’t be polite to point out that he wasn’t pretty, Hermione kept quiet, but watched him start making lunch. He was far too _something_ to ever be pretty, she decided as she studied him curiously. While she had looked at him before, it had generally been a brief glance or an occasional comparison of all the Weasleys, which was surprisingly fun to do when one was bored of Quidditch talk. In all honesty, though, she’d never really _looked_ at Charlie before.

Masculine. That was the something she’d been unable to place. He was shorter than his brothers, even the twins, and only a few inches taller than her, but he was muscular and gave an impression of being larger. His skin was covered in freckles, burns, and scars, and his hair was very short, though a little longer on top. He was rugged, perfectly at home in a forest with no way to survive except his own knowledge of the land, and she found herself fascinated by at ease he seemed in the kitchen. It was something else unexpected about him, which intrigued her.

When she realized she was staring, she quickly looked down at her book. She frowned and fussed with her notes before she reached for her cane. After she stood up, she felt as if she were being watched, which caused her to tighten her grip on her cane. A look at Charlie, though, showed him looking down as he spread butter on a slice of bread.

The cane sounded loud to her ears as she walked towards the kitchen, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Can I help?” she asked, balancing her weight on her good leg as she watched him make easy work of the slices with an efficiency in the kitchen that she envied.

“I decided to make toasted cheese, because warm sandwiches sounds much better than cold,” he told her. When he looked at her, she relaxed slightly because there wasn‘t even a hint of ‘you shouldn‘t be walking‘ or ‘go rest your leg‘. “You can open a tin of soup, if you want.”

She smiled and carefully made her way behind him in the small kitchen. “That’s certainly something that I can do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you certain that the other two are items belonging to the remaining Founders of Hogwarts?”

“No, but it’s a logical choice. Riddle chose an item from Slytherin and one from Hufflepuff, after all. It seemed the best place to start looking, and we can only hope that there _was_ some sort of method to his madness.”

“I don’t hold much for logic,” Charlie admitted, “but, in this case, it does seem appropriate. It’s just that we’ve been through at least a dozen books in the last ten days, and we’re no closer to having any ideas than when we started.”

Hermione could hear the frustration in Charlie’s voice and noticed the way his shoulders were tense, and he was gripping the book far harder than necessary. It had been a rough few days, colder than before and dead ends all around in their research, and _she_ felt like screaming, so she could imagine how he must feel after being confined with nothing but books and her for company. “Maybe you should take a walk,” she suggested. “Or you could go into a nearby village for a pint?”

“I don’t need a pint,” he muttered, pushing his chair back and standing. He began to pace and went to the window. “It’s snowing again. And, while I don’t mind getting wet taking a walk, I don’t have much interest in doing so when a basic drying charm won’t even work at this bloody cottage.”

“Yes, well, you’re not the only one who is suffering from a loss of magic,” she told him. “I can’t even summon a book, which is just ridiculous. Whomever your friend is that owns this place is obviously a nutter for creating such heavy wards and restrictions. What sort of holiday could have one when they can’t even use a wand?”

Charlie turned to look at her and leaned against the wall. “He wasn’t a nutter. I suppose he liked the challenge of not using magic here. Not like he was here during the worst winter in years, after all. Spent summers here, when he could walk to the lake and enjoy the views.”

“Liked? As in, deceased?” She arched a brow and pursed her lips. “We’re staying somewhere without permission, Charles Fabian Weasley?”

He grimaced. “Bloody hell, I _knew_ I shouldn’t have fessed up to my middle name. And Ron’s right. You do sound like a shrew when your knickers are in a twist.”

“My knickers are none of your concern, so stop avoiding my question. I was under the assumption that you‘d asked permission for us to stay here. However, unless you‘re communicating with the dead, I must be mistaken.”

“I have permission. I stayed here for a couple of months after the summer I left Hogwarts, before I decided to pursue my interest in Magical Creatures, namely dragons, instead of accepting an offer to try out for the Tornadoes. At that time, the invitation was open, and I was told to use the cottage anytime I needed somewhere to think or solve a dilemma. Not many problems as big as Horcruxes, I’d think, so this qualifies.”

“If the owner is dead, then any vague invitations are rescinded because there is a new owner,” she said matter-of-factly, concealing her surprise that he’d had an offer to be pro at Quidditch. Ron had never mentioned that in his many hours of Charlie bragging, which made her think he must not know.

“The previous owner wouldn’t care if we were here. In fact, he’d probably have packed our bags for us. The new owner, well, if it’s a blood relative who inherited, I doubt he’d care, either. But, you know, I‘m not even sure this place would be known by anyone. I was told it was a secret that I could only share with someone I trusted completely. You‘re the first person who‘s ever seen it at my invitation.”

“But you don’t _know_ , Charlie. Us being here might have triggered some alarm or---”

“It was Dumbledore’s summer house, Hermione,” Charlie said, interrupting her. “Considering the sacrifices that he made for this war, I can’t be fussed to worry about using this place.”

She just looked at him, actually struck speechless for a moment. Dumbledore’s cottage? For some reason, she’d never thought of him living anywhere but Hogwarts. Of course, that explained the very complicated wards and cloaking charms she’d detected.

“Bloody hell. Did I actually make the verbose and opinionated Hermione Granger speechless? I need to remember this moment, since I suspect it doesn’t happen that often.”

He looked far too smug and full of himself. She wanted to ignore his teasing, but it was impossible to do, not when he was making fun of her. It was best not to analyze _why_ his opinion mattered, of course, because her focus needed to be on Horcruxes not on confusing things she didn’t really understand.

While he smirked at her, she stood up and stalked towards the kitchen to get a cup of tea. Well, she’d intended to stalk, but she’d been so caught up in annoyance and embarrassment that she forgot her cane. She didn’t make it three steps before her leg tensed and spasms ran through it. “Oh!” she gasped, startled despite herself as she felt it give way beneath her. Before she could hit the floor, strong arms were around her waist pulling her back up.

“Here, let me,” Charlie murmured as he shifted behind her and helped her get steady on her feet. “You could have been hurt. For what? Because you couldn’t stand being surprised or being wrong?”

“I can do it,” she protested tightly, _hating_ have to depend on anyone, especially this man who she couldn’t figure out at all. She tried to straighten on her own, but it was useless. Her leg was throbbing, and she had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering at the pain spreading throughout it.

“I’m sure you can, but I‘m here, so I‘ll help,” he said simply. “You need to lie down, so the muscles can relax and the pain can become more tolerable.” _Need?_ And just who was he to tell her what she needed? Before she could ask, he moved closer to her.

When he suddenly lifted her into his arms, she gasped and reached out to grip his broad shoulder, thoughts of questioning his authority forgotten for the time being as he carried her to the sofa like she didn’t weigh as much as a feather. She turned her head towards him, mouth going dry when she saw how closer their faces were. She blinked and looked away quickly, not sure that she liked this odd feeling in her belly at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On day sixteen, there was finally success.

It was almost disappointing how casual the discovery was made, after weeks of reading and researching, but the excitement of finally finding something tangible far outweighed anything else. Charlie had found it, and she couldn’t even be annoyed because it was the first time she’d had that ‘yes, this is it’ feeling since they began researching. Even now, half an hour after he showed her the information, she was still reeling from the sense of rightness that she felt looking at it.

“Do you really think that’s it?”

“I know it is. I’m not sure how, but it’s one time that I’ll happily trust my instincts.”

“So, what now? How can we be certain? And where is it?”

She looked up and narrowed her eyes at him. “None of that. Not yet, at least. I think we deserve the chance to just enjoy this moment a little longer before the reality of still being so far away from a conclusion intervenes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, flashing a grin as he rested his elbows on the table and cupped his chin with his palm. “You do realize that it’s not going to disappear from the page if you stop staring, yeah?”

“You do realize that I’ve been very good by not pointing out that you located the information by looking at pictures instead of reading, yeah?”

“Brat. I was reading, too. Be glad I had that book because you’d have probably overlooked the image, Miss Smart Arse.”

“Hmph.” She snorted impolitely and looked back at the image. It was a drawn illustration in one of the many books she’d brought along, and he was right, which was infuriating. If she’d been reading that book, she’d have ignored the picture.

In it, Godric Gryffindor was fighting a goblin, of all things. He moved forward with his sword and protected himself from a flash of magic with a shield before the scene reset and repeated. She knew about the sword from Harry, but she’d never heard anything about a shield. It was a very Muggle way of fighting, especially against a goblin using magic, but she knew the shield was one of the missing Horcruxes. Riddle hadn’t been able to get to the sword to use it, but he’d somehow located the shield. She just knew it.

“Enjoy the moment? So we're celebrating, huh?” Charlie’s question caused her to look up at him. He had removed his glasses and was rubbing the bridge of his nose, which bore a spot on each side from his frames. She’d not noticed them before, but she did now. She noticed far too much these days, in fact. From the patch of freckles below his right ear to the scar on his chin that she knew he’d received from falling off a broom when he was ten, she knew his face and his figure well.

“Well, not researching for a brief time, at least,” she said. “I think we deserve the break. And, yes, I know, I know. Hell just froze over because I actually suggested taking a break.”

He grinned and set his glasses on the table. “I wasn’t going to suggest that, actually. I mean, if you look outside, you might try to argue that logically that means we’re actually _in_ hell or some other clever reasoning that makes my head hurt trying to understand. I might not be a stupid man, but I’m afraid I’m not bright enough to always follow your thoughts without effort.”

“You have this annoying ability to be insulting yet complimentary all at once. I really dislike it,” she informed him. “I’d rather be angry with you or thankful for praise instead of a confusing mixture of both.”

“You call it annoying but I think of it as self-preservation.” He reached across the table and tugged on a stray curl before he tucked it behind her ear, lightly dragging his knuckles across her cheek before he dropped his hand . “Besides, I rather like confusing you, I think.”

It was difficult to breathe, much less speak. Hermione’s skin was tingling from where he’d casually touched, and she could feel heat flood her cheeks as she stared at him. The table wasn’t very large to begin with but it felt even smaller as the energy in the cottage seemed to crackle around them. This had been happening more frequently in the passing days, but she was no closer to understanding or making sense of it than she had been the first time she‘d noticed.

Charlie stood up and ran his hand through his hair. “Right. So, celebrating our minor success, it is. Shall we go for a walk or look around to see if Dumbledore kept any games hidden away? There’s got to be a deck of exploding snap somewhere.”

“There’s not,” she said, shaking her head slightly. At his questioning look, she smiled sheepishly. “I, uh, investigated the property after we arrived, before I learned who owned it. There’s a bookshelf in the bedroom that has various texts, both fiction and non, but I wasn’t able to locate any hidden compartments or anything else of interest.”

“Why, you little snoop.” He smiled as he teased her and moved his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he rocked back on his heels. “Guess that leaves us with a walk before putting our noses back into the books.”

“You can go for a walk, if you’d like.” She moved her hand across her leg reflexively and felt regretful about her injury for the first time since it happened. Shaking her head slightly, she looked back at the illustration and focused on the positive discovery instead of anything as foolish as self-pity.

“I think that I’d like to go for a walk with you.” She looked up but before she could protest, he put his fingers against her lips. “I know it’s right cold out and probably snowing again, but I think it would do us both good to get fresh air before focusing on those books again.”

“Charlie, I can’t go for a walk,” she told him firmly. She moved her head slightly and curled into her fingers into her palm at being forced into a situation to have to admit to weakness of any sort. “The ground is far too uneven, especially with snow and ice, and it’s just too difficult.”

“Yes, you can, Hermione. It’ll just require walking slowly, but I don’t mind taking my time if you don’t. I won’t let you fall,” he promised, offering her his hand. He stared at her intently. “Will you walk with me?”

When he said he wouldn’t let her fall, she believed him. That realization was startling enough, but it was even worse when she acknowledged that she liked it. She slowly raised her arm and put her hand in his, smiling shyly. “I‘d love to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christmas was next week. Since the discovery of a most probable Horcrux last week, there hadn’t been any other findings, which was disappointing after the rush of excitement at finding a solid lead. Hermione hadn’t been able to figure out where the shield might have been hidden away nor was there anything possible for a Ravenclaw Horcrux. It was as if they’d taken a step forward only to take five steps back.

With the holiday approaching, there was also a sense of melancholy and even more concern for the boys than usual. There had been no word from them, of course, since they couldn’t risk the correspondence. When she found the Horcruxes, then she’d send word to them as they’d arranged. Until then, she had to hope they’d be okay. She believed in them, though, just as they did in her, so she had to just trust in that belief.

Despite missing Harry and Ron, the days weren’t lonely, and she occasionally felt guilty for enjoying his company as much as she did, especially considering the circumstances. They’d been here for weeks, though, and it was only natural to spend time talking and getting to know one another. The fact that they’d taken to touching casually more often than was appropriate and that she’d been wondering what kissing him would be like were better left ignored, if only because she had no idea what to do about it, if anything.

After getting dressed, she made her way into the sitting room so they could begin the day’s researching. She stopped in the doorway and gaped when she saw a small tree standing by the fireplace. It was covered in colored paper rings and bits of brightly colored fabric bows. She walked closer and touched it gently, blinking as she fought off a wave of emotion that had her eyes stinging.

“I know it’s not much, but it didn’t feel like Christmas without one,” Charlie said from behind her. “Besides, I woke up early and chopping down a tree was a great way to work off excess energy. You‘ve, uh, seemed sad the last couple of days, so I thought maybe this would make you smile.”

“It’s beautiful,” she told him. She turned and smiled. “Thank you. It’s very sweet.”

“I’m not sweet,” he protested with a groan even as he returned her smile. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? I’d rather my brothers think of me as the manly dragon tamer instead of the poncy tree decorator.”

“I promise.” She made a show of crossing her heart. “No one will ever find out that you’re not an insensitive, crude male with a foul mouth.”

“Ah, well, you’ve scolded me enough about my language that I think we both know most everyone’s aware of that one.”

She snorted. “Yes, well, when you’ve come up with such creative cursing that it puts Ron to shame, I suppose that does make it less secretive.”

“Eh, give the boy a few years. When he’s as old as I am, he’ll have a much larger vocabulary,” he said. “So, shall we start with the books or can I convince you to have a hot cup of chocolate first? We don’t have marshmallows since some certain person ate the last of the bag yesterday, but it’s pretty tasty nonetheless.”

“It’s not very sporting of you to tempt me away from research with chocolate, even if the offer is also a thinly veiled attack on me for stealing the last marshmallow.”

“I never claimed to play fair.” His innocent expression, which contradicted his smug words, made her laugh softly.

“Fine. You win. Chocolate before books.” She took a step closer to him and leaned up to kiss his cheek as a thank you for the tree. She didn’t plan for him to turn his head just as her lips were about to press against the stubble on his cheek, and she certainly didn’t expect to feel his chapped lips beneath hers. Before she could pull back and apologize, he tangled his fingers in her hair and pressed his lips firmly against hers.

It was a simple kiss, on the surface, but it was also more complicated than anything she’d ever experienced in the past. Her kisses with Viktor when she was fifteen had been experimental and pleasant, enough so that she’d seriously given the idea of pursuing a relationship in the future with him a lot of thought. But this kiss with Charlie made her heart race, made butterflies in her belly fly around at rapid speeds, and had her entire being feeling _alive._

When he pulled back, he sighed against her wet lips. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?” she asked hoarsely, cringing at the sound of her own voice. He rested his forehead against hers and touched her face, chuckling softly at her question.

“Because you’re too young, because there’s a war going on, because we’re stuck in this place together and I don’t know if it’s me or just the situation, because my mum would skin me alive, without magic, if I hurt you and I’ve got a bad habit of being a failure at this sort of thing. Do I need to go on?”

“I’m nineteen, the war can’t possibly dictate our behavior because it allows it power it shouldn’t have, it’s not the situation as I certainly can’t see myself kissing Lupin or Shacklebolt back if it was the same circumstances, and your mum can stop meddling because I very well might hurt you, too. Now, can you kiss me again or must I do everything myself?”

Charlie pulled back to look at her before he smiled crookedly. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you? Good thing for you that I don’t mind,” he said before he brushed his lips teasingly against hers, obviously much more confident now that he knew she wanted a kiss, the prat. But then he was kissing her and she couldn’t even be annoyed because it felt amazing.

She didn’t remember walking to the sofa, but she must have because she was suddenly sitting beside him, somehow managing not to break the kiss during the process. Or maybe it was that one kiss had become two and three and she’d eventually lost track as he pulled her against him and curled his tongue around hers. Distantly, she knew they should focus on research, but this was much more enjoyable than a cup of hot chocolate, so she just touched his neck and kissed him back. The research could wait just a little while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pain was unbearable.

Flush with success after figuring out where Riddle must have hidden the shield, Charlie and Hermione had gone for a walk along the edge of the river. There had been stops along for kisses and catching snowflakes on their tongues, and they’d walked much further than intended. By the time they’d arrived back at the summer house, her leg had been aching, but she’d ignored it during supper and sitting by the fire.

Their relationship had just moved from friendship to something more a few days before, after all, so the kissing was still too new and there was still a hesitant uncertainty regarding how things had changed. She didn’t want to mess things up by whining or allowing the injury to make things awkward. It was only after she was lying in bed that she let down her guard enough to really focus on the pain.

It was her own bloody fault for walking so far. Even with a cane, it was difficult, and it didn’t seem to be healing in any way, as she’d originally hoped. Even when she managed to locate the last Horcrux, she wouldn’t be able to rejoin Harry and Ron, not easily. She had to, though, which meant she had to get used to enduring the pain without showing how much it hurt.

A particularly violent spasm rushed through her leg, causing her to cry out softly as she clenched her fist around the sheet beneath her. The scars felt alive tonight, wiggling and writhing on her skin until she _had_ to scratch, needing to stop the burning itch. She dragged her fingernails over her skin over and over until long fingers suddenly wrapped around her wrist, pulling her hand back.

“Stop,” Charlie said gently but firmly.

She stared at the darkness, blinking away tears as she tasted the coppery flavor of blood on her tongue from where she’d bit her lips so hard, and watched as the dark gave way to shadows and eventually Charlie. “It hurts,” she whispered so quietly that she wasn’t even sure he’d hear her.

“I know, love. Let me help?”

He’d asked before, but never pressured. There was never pity or disgust when he noticed her in pain, just a slight tension and a desire to do something helpful. She always refused or pretended not to hear him, which was very immature but effective. Tonight, she sighed and said, “Please.”

“Thank fucking god,” he muttered. “Didn’t want to have to force you, but would have tonight and, right. Help, Charlie, don’t rattle on and scare the poor girl.”

“You’re crazy,” she accused softly, almost smiling as she listened to him.

“Could be totally corny and say ‘only for you’, but I’m not that pathetic.” He waved his wand and lit the candles in the room, the only charm the summer house seemed to allow, bathing them in a soft glow of candlelight. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, she realized, and that was almost a distraction from the pain, but not quite. The pajama bottoms riding low on his hips helped a lot, though.

“Can we, uh, lose the light?”

“I’m a pretty amazing bloke, but I’ve never mastered seeing in the dark. They stay lit. Now, I need you to raise up just a little so I can remove your pajama bottoms. I need to get to the leg, so I can help.”

“I’ve heard of silly excuses for getting a girl in her knickers, but this beats them all,” she murmured, blushing terribly as she tried to sound blasé about the entire thing.

“It’s getting a girl _out_ of her knickers that you need to be concerned about, Granger. Now lift up. Good girl.”

“Condescending git.”

“Stubborn wench.”

“It looks worse than it is,” she told him suddenly. “It mostly hurts right now because of the walk. We went too far, I guess, and I didn’t notice because we finally figured out where the shield must be hidden and, well, I like being with you.”

“Hermione, don’t lie to me. I’ve watched you trying to deal with the pain for weeks now, and it’s been frustrating as hell biting my tongue about it and waiting for you to ask for help. Ron told me, okay? He asked me to keep an eye on you because you were too mulish to worry about yourself.”

She sighed and raised up, looking at the ceiling as he lowered her pajama bottoms until they were around her ankles. She knew what he was seeing now. The burned skin, the vivid pink scars, and the pale skin that was twisted between the two all over the front of her leg up to her lower thigh. It had moved around to the back of her calf before stopping, but it hadn’t left her completely immobile, so it could be worse.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said softly. The feel of his fingers on her foot was surprising, but she closed her eyes and focused on him instead of the pain. “The locket took Ron’s fingers, you know? We didn’t expect it, had no idea what we were dealing with, and so we tried to be more aware when we finally found the cup. But dark magic is more unpredictable than anything, which we didn’t count on. I didn’t touch it with my hands, because we learned from Ron, but I balanced it on my thigh so I could hold it between two twigs while Harry destroyed it. We were being careful - no skin contact, and we even put a blanket over my leg, too, just in case, because we didn’t trust just setting it on the ground or a table, we wanted to be certain it would be destroyed, and, well, it melted. So fast and the pain was horrid as it burned through my trousers and skin.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, Hermione.”

“I need you to know, I suppose. Afterward, I passed out,” she continued. “When I woke up, my leg was a mangled mess. I could smell burned skin and blood, can still smell it sometimes, and then I realized that I couldn’t walk properly either. It really doesn’t hurt constantly, just when I forget my cane or occasionally when I don't, not in any pattern I've noticed.”

“Or when a bloke is so carried away talking with you that he walks too far away from home forcing you to follow,” he added quietly.

At that, she opened her eyes and propped herself up so she could glare down at him. “You didn’t force me to do anything, Charlie. I got carried away, too, and lost track of time. It’s already starting to feel better.”

“I’ll make it even better,” he promised as he began to move his fingers lightly over the scarred skin.

She lay back down and felt his fingers massaging the tight skin and sore muscles in her leg. It felt good, especially having someone touch her even after seeing how horrible it looked. He slowly massaged his way up her leg, and an hour might have passed without her having any sense of time. When she felt his lips brush against her lower thigh, she glanced down at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply before he kissed another patch of burned skin. Considering the burns on his own chest and arms, she couldn’t really accuse him of lying. He continued to massage her leg and kiss her skin until she was biting her to lip to keep from whining as the atmosphere around them changed.

“Charlie, what---”

“Does it feel better?” he asked, interrupting her in that annoying way of his.

“The pain’s weakened quite a lot.”

“Good.” He smiled mischievously before moving one of his hands much higher than the scars on her leg. He placed his palm on the crotch of her knickers and cupped her before he kissed her inner thigh. “Since I’ve made your leg feel better, I’d like to finish out my promise by making _you_ feel better. That okay?”

“Is that okay? How am I supposed to respond to such a question when you’re groping me and distracting me and oooh.”

“You talk too much, love,” he said as he shifted so that he was lying between her splayed legs. He pressed his thumb against her more firmly and rubbed back and forth while watching her face. “See how much more enjoyable life is when you stop talking and start feeling?”

“Charlie, you can’t,” she hissed softly, biting her bottom lip as she watched him ignore her and slowly lower her knickers. Her face was flushed, and she could only stare down at him when he ripped through thin cotton and pulled her knickers to the side.

She tried to focus but failed. "You said I didn't need to be concerned about you getting me out of my knickers."

“I lied." He smirked as he tossed the torn fabric on the floor beside the bed. "Do you want me to leave?” he asked, dragging his fingers up and down the lips of her vagina. Before she could answer, he ducked his head and replaced his fingers with his tongue. She bucked up against him and moaned as heat spread over her body. “I’ll take that as a no, love.”

“You---I---god.”

“Now that’s a good kind of talking,” he decided before he licked her again. “Fuck, you taste so good. So fucking tight, too, and hot. One day, I’ll feel you around my cock, all that heat squeezing me until I can’t think. Not tonight, though. Not ready for that yet, are we, love?” He ran his tongue over her before he sucked on her clitoris. When he raised his head, his lips were wet, and she shuddered at the realization that _she_ was the reason why they were. “Can you show me how you touch yourself? So I’ll know what you like? Or is it too much?”

The slight challenge in his last question made her determined to show him, even if it _was_ possibly too much. She shifted and moved the pillows behind her so she was able to sit at a slight angle and watch him. Then she hesitantly reached down, not looking away from his face as she gathered her courage and shyly touched her finger against herself.

“Don’t be scared, Hermione. Just show me,” he murmured, moving his hand over hers and letting her direct their fingers.

“I’m not scared,” she said honestly. She became bolder with her movements, though, and shivered when his finger slowly entered her as she eased her own finger inside. He looked from her face to between her legs, studying and following her lead until he eventually moved her hand out of the way. He sucked her fingers, curling his tongue around them as he moved his fingers in and out.

He was rocking against the bed, moving his hips up and down as he stroked her with his fingers and tongue. She wanted to see him, to feel him, to watch him, but a part of her knew that he was right - she wasn’t ready for _that_ yet. The throbbing in her leg had faded in time, or possibly the pleasure of Charlie’s attention just distracted her. Either way, she was soon pushing down against his hand as she adjusted to the presence of his fingers inside her.

“I love to see you like this,” he murmured. “Face flushed with arousal, skin damp with sweat, and you smell so fucking wonderful. Will you pull your shirt up for me, love? Let me see your tits? Touch them for me.”

“Charlie,” she whined, his crude words arousing her despite her usual scolding for saying such things. At the look in his eyes, she pulled her pajama top up and let him see her breasts. She lightly touched the remains of the scarring from the attack at the Department of Mysteries several years ago, and then squeezed them gently. Her nipples were hard and her breasts felt heavy, aching for the touch.

“Fuck, like that,” he groaned. He leaned down and licked her clitoris, sucking gently as he moved two fingers inside her. He didn’t look away from her breasts and face, which was unbelievably erotic.

It was just _too much_ of everything.

She whined when she came, shuddering and tightening around his fingers. It was intense, far more so than any orgasm she’d ever experienced by her own hands, and she arched off the bed as he kept moving his fingers. Finally, he pulled them out and pounced. He rocked against her right leg, his erection evident through the thin material of his pajamas, and he kissed her as he ground against her. It was strange to kiss him, knowing that the tangy flavor on his lips and tongue was her, but she opened her mouth for him and returned the kiss.

It wasn’t long before he pulled back and grunted. She felt wetness on her leg as she watched his face, eyes scrunched up and mouth hanging open, and then he collapsed against her, breathing hard against her neck as he moved his arm around her. She shifted, careful not to move her leg too much so she’d not aggravate the injury, and curled her arm around him.

“I won’t apologize for that.”

She glanced at him and smiled. “No one asked you to apologize.”

“Well, yeah, but I was just making it clear.”

“Heard and noted. No apologies for mind-blowing orgasm. Got it.”

“Brat.”

“You make it sound complimentary instead of insulting.”

“Hmph. Stop using big words. Obviously didn’t blow your mind well enough.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Have to work on that next time.”

“It’s nice to have goals.”

“You feel better?” he asked seriously, caressing her cheek before he kissed her lightly.

“Yes, I do. Thank you.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure.”

“Git.”

“You make that sound adorable instead of rude.”

“I’m just talented like that.”

“You’re also still too alert. Does a bloke’s ego bad to hear the girl he’s just made come using fancy words and thinking logically, you know?”

“I actually wasn’t aware of that, but I’ll try to remember it in the future.”

“Can I sleep here? Much more comfortable than that sofa bed. Also, there’s something soft and curvy to cuddle.”

“Well, since you offered cuddling, how can I say no?”

He grinned. “Good. Now hush up and get some sleep. We’ve got another Horcrux to locate then we can end this fucking war and get on with our lives.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, tracing his smile before she reached for her wand and extinguished the candles. “You know, it should be far more creepy than it is to have just had my first sexual experience in Albus Dumbledore’s bed.”

“Okay, _that_ is a definite way to ruin a mood. I think I need a shower now.”

She giggled and then bit her lip when she realized how girly she must sound. “Sorry. My mind is logical. And no showers, because you‘re just trying to get me naked again.”

“Again? You’re still mostly naked, love,” he reminded her. “Besides, we’re all sticky and messy. And don’t birds usually need to pee after a toe-curling orgasm?”

“Okay, _that_ is the way you ruin a mood. Can we please not discuss my needing to pee when we’re lying in bed snuggling after sex?”

“Ah, but there is a need, obviously, so what sort of boyfriend would I be if I ignored your needs?”

She felt her heart skip a beat when he casually said boyfriend, which was something they’d not actually discussed but she assumed might be what they were thinking. “You’d, uh, be the sort who knows your girlfriend gets embarrassed discussing such things.”

“Oh, right,” he said, sounding relieved before he snuggled closer. “Guess the shower will have to wait then. Run along to the toilet, love, and I’ll lie here being very relieved that you’ve changed the sheets since we first arrived.”

She laughed but she did really need to use the toilet, so she carefully got up and found her cane. It was too dark to see, so she hit the end of the bed with her good knee and then banged her shoulder on the edge of the bookshelf. Candlelight filled the room, and she looked back to see Charlie openly ogling her naked bum. Feeling mischievous, she bent down in a rather deliberate manner to pick up the book she’d knocked to the floor. Her smile faded when she glanced down at it.

“Charlie, look!”

“I am looking,” he said lazily. “Wiggle a little.”

“Oversexed git,” she accused, turning to toss him the book. “Tomorrow, we’re reading that.”

“ _The Four Founders_ ,” he read, looking up at her with excitement. “You think?”

She nodded. “It was in Dumbledore’s private collection, which means it’s probably rare and informative. It’s going to have something about Ravenclaw, I just know it.”

He got off the bed and picked her up, kissing her soundly before setting her on her feet. “You know, this is a cause for celebration.”

“We don’t for certain that there’s even anything in it,” she pointed out dryly, gasping softly when he nibbled on her neck. “Celebrating?”

“Uh huh,” he murmured against her neck as he moved his hand beneath her top. “The floors cold, and my poor feet are freezing, but I think a nice, warm shower would help them.”

“Oh, those poor cold feet.” She tsked and moved her hand over the curve of his spine. “A shower might be nice, after I use the toilet. We should celebrate, after all, and you can wash my back, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” He pulled back and scowled playfully. “I’m a bloody good back-washer, you know? I guess the only way to convince that analytical mind of yours is to show you, though.”

He picked her up and carried her to the bath, letting her have privacy while she used the toilet. When she opened the door and watched him start the shower, she smiled. She had to believe that they were close to finding the last Horcrux, and then they could meet the boys and see about ending this war. After that, well, she’d love to see the summer house in the spring.

End


End file.
